


I've Got You

by jeweldancer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Injury, taking a bath together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweldancer/pseuds/jeweldancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is the Winchester brothers' hunting partner and Sam's girlfriend. Sam takes care of her after she gets injured during a hunt. Mostly fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

> I had just posted another older fic and realized I didn't have this one on AO3 yet. It's pretty different than what I usually write, as it's Sam/OFC and a reader insert. If you don't like it, I'll be back to my regularly scheduled programming soon. :)

When you came to, you were in the back of the Impala with Sam. He cupped your face in his big hands. “Dean. She’s awake.”  
“Good. Hey, sweetheart, you doin’ okay? I promise we’ll have you back at the motel in a few minutes, and you can get comfortable.”

You couldn’t imagine ever being comfortable again. Every inch of your body hurt, and your lungs burned when you took a breath. You and the Winchesters had been working a case, trying to discover why women in a certain small town kept disappearing mysteriously. The only common factor in the disappearances was the dive bar all the missing women had frequented.

So there you had been, sitting at the bar as bait, squeezed into a skin-tight pair of jeans and a low-cut top. Unfortunately, the lone vamp that came in recognized you from a case in Michigan two years ago, before you had teamed up with the Winchesters. He had picked you up from the barstool and thrown you against the back wall of the bar.

Dean had taken care of the vamp while Sam vaulted over the scattered tables and chairs to get to you. The blow had knocked all the air from your lungs, and you gasped for breath. Sam had panicked and whacked you on the back, and the shock had forced you to take a breath.

Sam collapsed near you in relief. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the correct first aid,” he panted.

“Yeah, well, it worked, so we won’t knock it. Hey, honey, are you okay? Can you talk to me?” Dean squeezed your hand.

You shook your head no as everything turned black.

Normally you could sleep anywhere, especially in the back seat of the Impala, but tonight every bump in the road was excruciating. Sam was trying to comfort you, his expression anguished. Sam was unbelievably sweet; that was why you were with him. He was a soft spot in the rough world you lived in; a sure thing you had never thought you would have. Sam was home, no matter where the two of you were.

Dean played the tough guy, but he had a soft heart. He had liked you from the start, simply because you made Sam smile again; but you had won his heart by baking him homemade pies whenever he was injured or feeling low. He was the closest thing you’d ever had to a big brother.

Sam carried you into the motel room and gingerly laid you on the bed. You shifted around on the mattress, trying to get comfortable, but all sides of your body seemed to hurt equally. Dean sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at you, his eyes soft with concern. “I’m going to go get some food, sweetie. Is there anything you think you could eat?”

“Mmm. Mac and cheese? That’d be hard to find, though. Whatever’s fine, D.”

“I’ll do my best, okay? I’ll be back in a bit.”

Sam knelt beside of the bed with a bottle of water and a pill bottle. He had saved some of the pain meds he had gotten after an ER visit several months ago. “Hey, baby. Will you take one of these? Please. You’ll rest a lot better.”

You nodded and tried to prop yourself up on your elbows. “That would be great. Thank you, Sam.”

“No, babe, lay still. I got you.” Sam held one of the pain pills to your lips and helped you sip from the water bottle. “Can you drink a little more? It’ll help.”

Sam checked the bathroom and found that not only was it clean, but there was a fairly sizable tub. He started running a bath; maybe that would relax your muscles until the pain meds kicked in. He wished he had some bubble bath, and grinned a bit thinking about what Dean would say if he called to tell him to pick some up. He saw a tiny bottle of shampoo on the sink and dumped it into the water; that would have to do. 

Sam looked out at you lying on the bed and tried to think of the best way to get you comfortably in the bathtub. Leaning up against the hard edge of the tub with your bruised back wouldn’t work. He’d just have to get in there with you. Sam quickly stripped off his clothing and sat down on the bed next to you. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna take off your clothes, okay? I’ll try my best not to hurt you.”

You blinked in surprise, seeing a naked Sam sitting next to you. “Um, Sammy? I don’t really think I’m up for that right now.”

“Smartass. We’re taking a bath. It’ll help relax your sore muscles.” Sam tried to slide off your blouse, but it was too tight to get off without hitching your arms above your head and shifting your shoulders around. He could tell that the skin tight jeans would pose the same problem. It would be excruciating to get your clothing off your aching body.

“Babe? Are you really attached to this outfit?”

“Oh, yeah, Sam. This slutty outfit is so practical for the hunter lifestyle. And hella comfortable.”

“Well, good to know you still have your sass.” Sam dug around in his bag for his hunting knife and held it away from you. “Is this okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Please. Get them off. It’s either that or sleep in them.” Sam raised the knife hesitantly. “Sam. It’s okay. I trust you.”

“All right, angel. Lay still, okay?” Sam put the knife at the neckline of your blouse and quickly cut down the front. He cut down the legs of your jeans as well, and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I will never wear jeans that tight again.”

“Do you want me to cut your bra, too?”

“Do you know how expensive a good bra is? Just unhook it and slide it off the front. Besides, I like how it makes my boobs look.”

“Fair enough.” Sam slid off your bra and panties and gently lifted you in his arms. He carried you into the bathroom and stepped into the tub. He sank down into the warm water and gingerly tried to arrange his huge body around yours. There was much splashing and cursing from Sam. By the time he had you comfortable, you were helpless with giggles. 

“Oh shit, Sam! You gotta stop, it hurts to laugh!” 

“Quit wiggling or I’ll tickle you.” You leaned back against Sam’s chest and he wrapped his arms around you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this feels great, actually.”

Sam kissed the top of your head and captured your hands with his. His hands were large enough to wrap all the way around yours, and he lowered them into the warm water and massaged them gently.

After a few minutes of warm water soaking away your soreness and Sam rubbing your hands, the pain pill started to kick in. You felt like you were floating, and your eyelids fluttered. You started awake suddenly, afraid of falling into the water.

“Hey, angel. Go ahead and close your eyes, okay? I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” You turned your head to the side and nuzzled Sam’s damp chest, letting your eyes fall shut. “That’s it. I’ll take good care of you. Sleep now.” 

Sam held you, running his hands up and down your arms, as you dozed. After a while the water grew tepid, so Sam reached up with his foot and kicked the hot water on again. The motion woke you, but the new warmth flooding into the tub soothed you again. “Mmm. Let’s never leave the bathtub again.”

“Your feet will get wrinkly,” Sam warned. 

“Small price.”

Dean, meanwhile, had found a promising-looking small diner, but it appeared to have just closed for the evening. He pressed his face against the glass door and spotted movement inside. He waved wildly. One of the waitresses inside waved a dishtowel at him, mouthing, “We’re closed.”

“Please?” Dean mouthed back, clasping his hands together in a pleading gesture. The waitress, a stern-faced woman in her early sixties unlocked the door and opened it six inches. 

“This better be good, son. I been on my feet for 10 hours and I want to get home.”

Dean put on his most charming smile. “I’m so sorry, ladies, but I am in desperate need of macaroni and cheese. The good kind.”

The waitress pursed her lips. “Let me guess. Pregnant wife.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open, but he recovered quickly. “Yes. YES. And she’s craving mac and cheese. Please tell me you can help.”

“Come on in, son.”

“Deedee, what are you doing?” grumbled the other waitress.

“Hush, Linda. We’ll just have to throw it out if we don’t give it to him. Sit down a minute.”

Deedee must have been an angel of the Lord, Dean later decided, as he drove back to the motel with not only an entire pan of macaroni and cheese, but mashed potatoes, broccoli casserole, four Salisbury steaks, and half a dozen dinner rolls.  
Dean opened the motel door to find an empty room and total silence. “Sammy?” 

“In here, Dean. We’re in the bathtub.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Sam. Can you not even close the door?”

“Shut up. The shower curtain’s closed. And I kinda need your help.”

“This better be good.”

“DEAN. She fell asleep leaning on me, and now I’m afraid to try to pick her up because she’s all…slippery, and I’d probably drop her.”

“And I’m going to have to help you how?”

“Just bring me some towels. And one of my t-shirts. That’s all.”

Sam started letting the water out of the tub, and when it was almost gone, he wrapped you in a towel and was able to get out without dropping you. He set you on the floor, gently dried you with another towel, and slid his t-shirt over you. It came down nearly to your knees. He wrapped a towel around his waist, then scooped you up and settled you in the middle of the bed.  
Sam grabbed a t-shirt and shorts and went back to the bathroom to put them on. When he came out, you were awake, and Dean was helping you eat macaroni and cheese. “You’re the best, Dean-o,” you told him happily.

Dean grinned at Sam. “I kinda like her when she’s on pain meds. She’s very chipper.”

Sam rummaged through the take-out containers on the table. “The fuck, man? Where’d you get all this mac and cheese?”


End file.
